The Past, Present, & Future

Thursday, I spoke at a local high
school’s gay/straight alliance (GSA) about growing up immediately before
America’s marriage equality shift. Walking the hallways, I felt the impending
doom from my own youth slowly creep back over my shoulders. I was there for
half an hour before meeting with the students, and during that time, I felt 15
again. Awkward, confused and trapped; all of the terrible emotions teenage me
had long since buried came flooding back as I sat among the future of our
community.

Possibly
a side-effect of second puberty, but I feel like we could learn something from
teenagers currently wading through ever-changing bodies, minds, and social
constructs. It is not a new topic that I figured out early on I was not the
little girl the world saw. I have documented my childhood before. My own awkward high
school moments were primarily peers noting that something I was doing, saying,
or wearing implied that I wanted to be a boy. I make the joke that when
classmates turned my deadname into a joke, I should have listened; but the
truth always circles back that I knew who I was long before there was anything
that could have been done about it.

Now
is an infinitely different time to be a teen and realize plumbing is the
problem, not your brain. Remember my frequently-mentioned supportive parents?
It is infuriating knowing that if I was 15 now, they would be jumping through
all of the hoops to get me on HRT, and a consultation for top surgery. I should
be grateful, instead, I am bitter I did not win the birthplace and time
lottery to get both the supportive parents and the ability to grow up as Asher.
Behind my smile is a lot of pain from struggling to reach the point where
waking up each morning is something not to dread. Because my strength comes
from a knowledge that feeling how I used to is not a place that anyone should
have to wade through. We have this idea that children are constantly telling
falsities under the guise of their imagination. When I was four, my parents
assumed I was going through a phase. By puberty, the adults in my life
anticipated my “blossoming” as the end to my awkward ambiguity; little did they
know of the wonders of the hooded sweatshirt. I sat across from a group of
teenagers doing the same things I did. I watched them use humor to mask how
uncomfortable they felt having to explain themselves to yet another person;
when is it not enough to simply say, this is who I am?

Sitting
with me since I walked out of that school, is the knowledge that there are
teens that are going through battles worse than my lowest point, and I cannot
go pluck them from their suffering and transport them to the “me now” portion
of their lives. I stand in front of them and tell them their fight is valiant,
that I love them, and tomorrow is worth fighting for; then I sit down next to
them and feel exactly how far away my own words seem, how dimly they shine from
the view of a struggling queer teenager.
My Christmas wish is for the kids who hide who
they are, and dream of the same world I did when I was their age; that we all
can just live. Not after fighting, or struggling, or crying until there are no more tears, but just
because we already are. We are all already here. We always have been. My wish
is that we finally can give that simplicity to every little kid who just wants
to wear swim trunks instead of a bikini. I wish you all happy holidays and a
peaceful new year.

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Asher Kennedy

Asher Kennedy is a writer, activist, trans-man and cis-nerd living an hour outside of Washington in the Eastern Panhandle of WV. He proudly serves on the board of Hagerstown Hopes (hagerstownhopesmd.org) and has been featured on RoleReboot (rolereboot.org) and is on twitter @ItsAsherK